Wines
by shockin'blueeyes
Summary: Wines, like people, have personalities, secrets and soul mates. Different pairings, one each chapter. Harry/Ginny, Victoire/Teddy, Tonks/Remus, Seamus/Lavender, Katie/Oliver, Draco/Astoria, Bill/Fleur, George/Angelina.
1. HarryGinny

Written for Flitwick's prompt of the day with the prompt 'red wine'

I'll continue this story with more pairings, one pairing for each style of wine. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer. I don't own anything, sadly.

* * *

_**Table wine**__:__ ordinary wine, cheapest one, generally drunk accompanying a midday lunch or used to make wine-based cocktails._

'Harry, sign me an autograph? It's for my daughter, you see, she admires you'

'Oi, Mr. Potter! A word for The Daily Prophet?'

'Mr. Potter, are the rumours true?'

'Harry Potter, could you sign me this shirt?'

'Potter, can you take a photo with me?'

Harry made his way through the crowd that awaited at the entrance of the Auror department and ran to the elevators, which thankfully closed just when he entered it. Panting and heaving, he tried to hide his car by flattening his hair, even if he knew it was pretty useless. The whole wizarding world knew how he looked like. God, even some muggles had heard of him! He was in the front cover of all the wizarding newspapers every time he just as much as put a toe out of the street, and the amount of fan letters he got was just insane. He sighed, slumping against the back of the elevator. Luckily the elevator was almost empty, and the only one in it apart from himself was struggling with a dog with a chicken head. When the man with the odd dog got out, a flash blinded him for a second, and the elevator man quickly shut the doors before any reporter could get inside.

'Thanks' Harry muttered, and the elevator man nodded.

'Think they'll get over it soon?' he asked, and Harry laughed.

'I blood well hope so, it's been nearly two years' it was true, it had been two years since Harry become the hero of all the wizarding world, and his fame and renown didn't show signs of diminishing.

The doors tingled open again and he made a mad dash to the Apparition point, not throwing a last look behind him. His stomach churned, and he felt the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a giant rubber tunnel, but not a second later, he opened his eyes, and found himself at a corridor full of doors with numbers. Hurrying through the corridor, he made a sharp turn to the left, nearly crashing over a pot full of flowers. When he arrived to number 56 he took out his wand and tapped the door once. With a small crack, the door opened, and he scurried inside before closing it and resting

His head on the hard wooden surface. He nearly made a whole through it when two small arms hugged him from behind. He turned around and returned the hug, resting his chin on the top of her head.

'God, Ginny, don't do that again, you nearly gave me a heart attack.' A muffled giggle came from where she had her face pressed against his neck, and the hot breath tickled his skin. After a while something tinged in the oven and Ginny tried to disentangle her self from him, but he tightened his grip.

'Harry, lunch is going to get burned, let me go' she said, smiling, but he shook his head, resting it again on the top of her head.

'No' she shrugged and began walking into the kitchen, dragging Harry along with her. When they arrived to the kitchen, she tried again to disentangle herself, and they ended up sprawled on the kitchen floor, Ginny on top of him and both laughing madly.

'I can't believe it!' he chortled 'Ginny Weasley, the deft star of the Holyhead Harpies, falling to the ground while walking across her kitchen!' she slapped him playfully on the arm.

'It's not easy to walk across a kitchen when Harry Potter, saviour of the whole world is clinging to you like a leech!' she retorted in a playful manner. Harry let go of her, and got up.

'Okay, okay, I'll keep my hands off you, if that's what you want' he tried to say it in a flat voice, but the look in Ginny's face, glaring from the floor, was much too good. He cracked up laughing again, leaning on the counter for support. Ginny smiled dangerously and moved her legs, trapping his ankles and making him fall down again. He rolled to his side and looked at Ginny, raising an eyebrow.

'What was that for?'

'I was only demonstrating what Ginny Weasley, deft star of the Holyhead Harpies, can do' she said with a satisfied smirk. Still chuckling, he moved closer and shortened the distance between them. Inches away from her face, he whispered.

'Well, I'm going to demonstrate what Harry Potter, saviour of the whole world, can do' and he kissed her.

Fifteen minutes later, Ginny gasped for air as Harry nibbled her ear. She scrunched her face.

'Don't you smell something burning?' Harry grunted something that sounded like 'no', but Ginny pushed him away softly, propping herself on her elbows, a look of horror on her face. 'Lunch!' Harry shrugged and kissed her neck again.

'I'm not hungry' he muttered, and Ginny rolled her eyes, moving from under him to stand up.

'No, really, Harry, lunch's burning!' she said as she got up. A black, thick smoke was coming out of a casserole, and the whole room stank. Ginny made a move for her wand, but Harry beat her to it, and the casserole hovered in the air before landing on the sink and himself of water. When the casserole had stopped smoking, Harry turned back to Ginny with a smirk.

'Taken care of' he said. Ginny scoffed.

'What are we supposed to eat now?' she asked, and Harry shrugged.

'Sandwiches?' she snorted, but ten minutes later they were sitting on the couch, cheese and ham sandwiches on their hands and two glasses of red wine floating in the air near them. Harry took a sip of one and choked.

'What the hell is this stuff?' he asked. Ginny shrugged.

'Muggle wine. I bought it at the last second, because I realised we didn't have any.' Harry bit a mouthful of his sandwich to eliminate the funny taste.

'Was it in a carton bottle?' he asked, eyeing the liquid in the glass carefully.

'Well, yes it was. Aren't all the wines in carton bottle?' she asked, and he shook his head, smiling.

'You should have taken muggle studies…' she scoffed.

'I didn't need it with my father. I actually know a lot about muggles, but my father forgot to mention that little detail.' She reached for her glass and drank it in one go before Harry could stop her. He stared at her, mouth open.

'Do you like it?' he asked. She shrugged.

'Tastes like gillywater' Harry had never drunk gillywater in his life, and now was sure he wasn't going to anytime soon. He rested his glass on the table, but Ginny glared at him.

'What?' he asked.

'That cost me all the muggle money I had, you're going to drink it' she commanded, and Harry was strongly reminded of Molly Weasley.

'Okay, if you insist…' he muttered, reaching again for his glass and making up a pathetic face upon tasting it. Ginny smacked him on the arm again, and he nearly spilled the wine on her. Not that that would be a tragedy: he'd get rid of the wine and Ginny would have to take off her shirt…

'Don't you even think of spilling it' she said, and he obediently scrunched up his face again and drank the remaining of his glass. Ginny smiled warmly at him, leaning over and kissing him.

'See? It wasn't so bad' she whispered when they parted the kiss.

And somehow, from that day on, every time they had lunch by themselves, they always shared a bottle of table wine bought in the nearest muggle shop. And Harry enjoyed every sip of it.

* * *

Review!


	2. TeddyVictoire

_Chapter 2:_

_**Sparkling**__:__ also known as champagne, is normally white o rosé, but also red. Used for celebration._

Her birthday had always been a celebration, not only of her birthday, but also of the victory of good over evil, love over hater.

Her grandmother always holds a big party at the Burrow, which lasts well into the night, the 'Happy Birthday Victoire' mixed with 'Good Victory Day'. When the sun sets and uncle George has set his fireworks, the children are ushered inside and the champagne starts finally to flow. Since she was fourteen, she is allowed to stay until all the guests leave, and hear the incredible stories of the war her uncles and aunts tell. She always enjoys it, even the story of how her father got his scars, because it reminds her how lucky she is to live in a world without evil. The only thing that stops the day to be perfect is the absence of a certain Teddy Lupin.

Of course, she isn't stupid, she knows what happened with his parents, but she can't help but feel bitter that her best friend is never there on her birthday day. Okay, that is a little bit untrue. He is at the Burrow until the sun starts to set and stories of the war begin to get told. At that point, he stops whatever he's doing and leaves, not bothering to tell her, or anyone, goodbye. The thing is that he isn't there for the whole day, and that bother her, especially these last few years, when she hadn't been able to think of him without a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks.

So the day of her seventeen birthday, when her grandmother officially looses her marbles and throws the biggest party she has ever seen, she decides to finally pluck up the courage to follow Teddy and find out why and where he leaves. She plans in keeping a close eye on him all day (which won't be difficult, given that she can't keep her eyes off him), and the moment he abruptly stops doing what he's doing, grab him just when he dissaparates and hopefully don't splinch herself when they do side-along apparition to wherever he's going. Yeah, it's a good plan, and if she can't do this, then revealing her feelings to him will be a walk through the park, if he doesn't get to angry with her for following him. Bah, details.

'Ron! Do you remember when you' George chortles as soon as the last of his fireworks is finally over. A few laughs echo in the garden, and Victoire's head snaps to her right, where Teddy has left his fork and his plate with cake and has gotten to his feet, body rigid. He starts walking to the gate at once, not saying goodbye to anybody. Nobody seems to notice he's leaving, anyway. She quickly excuses herself and practically runs to him, still careful not to attract his attention. He stops just outside the gate, and Victoire catches his hand at the last moment. Her stomach gives a lurch as she feels the squeezing feeling, and she topples to the ground when her feet touch solid surface. She quickly stands up, brushing herself off. Her knees are covered in mud. Ughh. Were does all this mud come from. She looks up, suddenly remembering she has finally followed Teddy to wherever he goes every year on her birthday, and her stomach gives another lurch. They're in a graveyard. And not just any graveyard. Hogwarts Memorial Graveyard. She gulps and looks at Teddy, surprised that he hasn't said anything about her being there yet. But Teddy doesn't seem to have seen her, and that is very near impossible, since he had apparated with her just outside the Hogwarts grounds. Yet he seems transfixed on two tombstones, his back turned to her. Maybe he has seen her, and doesn't want to talk to her. It's strange, though, the way his shoulders slump down. An eerie silence floats through the quickly obscuring graveyard, and she shivers unconsciously, pulling her thin jacket tighter around her.

She doesn't know what to say, so she just stares at the back if his head, wondering when he will realise he isn't alone.

The minutes pass, and she starts to feel worried about him. He's just standing there, not moving an inch, his head downwards and his hands in his pockets. She notices his hair is a bubblegum pink spiked with soft brown, and she doesn't understand why. He's obviously staring at his parents graves, so he should have a pale grey, the colour he always has when he's sad, shouldn't he?

She tries to understand why he's here when everybody else that had lost someone in the Battle is at the Burrow. Even his grandma is there! And uncle George!

She tentatively moves forwards to touch his shoulder, but freezes in midair when a choking, hoarse sound reverberates through the graveyard. His shoulders begin to shake slightly, and her eyes widen. He's crying! She has only seen him cry when they won the Quidditch House Tournament last year, but she knows those tears had nothing to do with these ones. She stands there, hand hovering an inch over his shoulder, totally at a loss of how to react. Should she dissaparate to the Burrow again and let him cry alone? Or should she stay and comfort him?

She bites her lip, trying to decide, when Teddy softly speaks, and if she wasn't right behind him, she would have missed it.

'I never knew them' the sentence is completely random, and she isn't entirely sure he is addressing her, but it suddenly all clicks, and she draws in a sharp breath.

That's the reason he never stays at her birthday, that's the reason he flees when the first story about the Battle is exchanged. He never knew them. While everybody else is there, talking about their lost loved ones, exchanging the many funny anecdotes they have, he has nothing to tell, so he goes away. He has nothing to tell, because he never knew them. And he never will. The day of her birthday must be the worst day of the year for him, reminding him over and over again the reason he never knew his parents. Her birthday is always a celebration, and for the first time, she doesn't want it to be. So she silently walks away from him and dissaparates back to the Burrow, and without an explanation, she shoos away everyone and makes the decoration disappear, and when she makes sure everybody has left (they all asks a lot of questions, but her grandma, after giving her a long, meaningful look, makes sure to send everyone to Shell Cottage to continue the party), she makes sure than when he comes back to get his things, he sees that today is no longer a celebration, and that she understands. She waits for him to come back, and he does, at around eleven o'clock. She quickly leads him to the sitting room, where she sits him down and asks him if he wants something to drink. Something that is not champagne, the drink of celebration, but something that'll take his mind off today. And when he asks her in a slightly hoarse voice for orange wine, she gives it to him, even if she has no idea whatsoever of why he would want orange wine now.

And she swears to herself that she'll never ever do a party again for her birthday, and instead she will be with him when he goes to the graveyard.

And he seems surprised when she tells him that, but in the end he doesn't say anything and just hugs her, and she really hopes that the blush that colours his cheeks when he pulls back is from something more than the wine.

* * *

Hope you liked it! Next chapter will be Lupin/Tonks

Review!


	3. LupinTonks

For all of those who wonder why Teddy wanted Orange wine in the last chapter, here is the answer. This is set right after the Order of the Phoenix and before the Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to J.K. Rowling

* * *

Chapter 3: Lupin/Tonks

_**Orange**__:__ made from white wine grape varieties that have spent maceration time in contact with the skins. Opposite of rose, in which the skins are quickly taken off, but sometimes told to describe the similar pinkish/orange/salmon coloured wine. It smells strongly of a fruit orchard surrounded by a flower garden._

'Remus… Remus come on, we've got to leave…' she tugged at his robes, but he didn't move. Sirius was dead… Padfoot was dead… now he was alone, truly alone. 'Remus…' he looked up at her pleading tone, and saw her face was streaked with tears. Oh, he had forgotten Sirius was Tonks's family.

'I'm sorry; Sirius was your family…'

'Shh, shh, shh' she closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head, as if the only thought of him hurt her. It probably did. It hurt him too. She then opened her eyes, which had gone a dull brown, and tugged again at his robes. He hastily got up from the dusty floor, but he didn't bother brushing himself off. What was the point? Tonks hadn't let go of his sleeve, and he looked down at her hand. Hair turning orange, she let go. Orange… wasn't that the embarrassed colour? They stood there awkwardly, suddenly very aware of their closeness, and he looked back at the scorched mark on the tapestry before turning around and getting out of the room. He heard Tonks follow, tripping over the troll leg, but she didn't bother with putting it straight again. What was the point?

The rest of the Order was hovering in the hall, finishing packing their things, and one by one, they went through the door and dissaparated. When Mrs. Weasley caught Mr. Weasley's hand dissaparated together, it came to him that he didn't have anywhere to go.

'Where are you going now?' asked Tonks, and he shrugged. To his surprise, Tonks caught his hand and began walking towards the door.

Under normal circumstances, he would have wriggled free of her grasp, but that time he let her lead him through the door, and he gripped tighter her hand when the nauseating feeling of tightness surrounded him. When he opened his eyes again, he stared right at a wooden door, a number five engraved on it. Looking besides him, he saw Tonks fumbling in her pocket with her free hand. The other hand was still firmly clasped in his, and her hair was bright orange.

'Where are we?' he asked, though he had a pretty good idea of where exactly they were.

'In my flat' she said, pulling out a golden key and opening the door. She gently motioned him inside, and he obediently followed her, his mind feeling a little bit numb.

It was a small apartment, with two small doors on the right, a small kitchenette on a corner and a small living room. The only thing that wasn't small was the huge floor-to-ceiling window. The setting sun glowed through the window, and she led him to a couch in front of it. When he sat she let go of his hand and turned around, opening and closing drawers in the small kitchenette. He stared out of the window, his mind blank.

'Why did you use a key?' he asked, and was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. Still rummaging around, Tonks replied.

'It's an enchanted lock… only that key can open it, no spells… Moody gave it to me…' her voice came muffled, and he had to strain his ears to hear her. 'I know it's here somewhere…'

Five minutes later she gave a delighted cry and came back to the couch, a bottle of amberish liquid and two wine glasses in her hands. Setting them on the floor, she poured the liquid in the glasses and handled one to him. He took it wordlessly, but didn't drink it.

'What is this?' he only seemed to be asking questions.

'It's wine'

He stared at the amberish stuff.

'Wine's not orange' he said, and she smiled.

'This one is. Drink it, you'll feel better' he looked uneasily at his glass, but tilted back his head and downed the contents in one gulp.

'Tastes nice' he muttered, and she snorted softly.

'That's no way to drink a fine wine, mister'

He smiled weakly.

'What do you know about wines? I've only seen you downing shots of fire whiskey' her smile widened.

'I know enough to at least not down it on one go' she replenished his glass and handed it over to him. This time he took his time, savouring it in his mouth. A warm feeling spread through his body.

'It tastes like…'

'A perfect summer day in a fruit orchard surrounded by a flower garden'

He looked at her, surprised.

'You've really thought this through, haven't you?' she smiled sadly.

'Yes I have' they stayed in silence for a while, Tonks taking small sips and him gazing at the now dark sky.

'Why a wine? Isn't it more adequate for this… erm, situations to drink something stronger?'

She shook her head, her hair turning a mousy brown and her eyes the dull brown they had been at Grimmauld Place.

'Sirius would have wanted us to celebrate his life, not mourn his death' she whispered, and he stared at her.

'How can you say that? He was the last… he's gone… I'm, I'm a-alone' he stammered, and his voice broke on the last word. He was alone, all alone… he was the last one left, because Peter was as good as dead too. His eyes clouded with tears, and he turned his head, not wanting Tonks to see them, but he felt her arm sliding past his shoulders, and the next moment he was sobbing uncontrollably onto her shoulder.

'Shh, shh' she shushed him quietly as he hugged her too, her head coming to rest on his chest, near his heart, but after a while he could hear he crying too. And through the pain that numbed his very soul, he realised he didn't want her to cry, he wanted her to be happy, and happiness was definitely not with him. If anything, she had demonstrated she was a far kinder, caring person that he deserved to have, but somehow he couldn't muster up the strength to end the mourning hug, because it seemed like the only thing he could grasp in the middle of the chaos reigning now in the world.

When he was drained from all emotions, and his eyes were dry, he lifted his head, but she did not.

'Please don't leave now' she muttered against his chest, her arms, which were encircling his neck, coming down to clutch on the lapels of his robes.

'Tonks… We have discussed this…' he knew he had to leave now, hen he didn't feel nothing too deep, before she made her way to his heart, before it was too late to go back. She lifted her head and looked at him in a way it made him want to cry in frustration about what he was about to do. He tried to dislodge her hands from his lapels, but she clung more firmly. 'Tonks… I need to leave…' her hair flashed red.

'To go where? To mourn Sirius alone? You have nowhere to go!' the truth of her words hit him like a tidal wave. One thing was to think so himself, but it got sort of real when the girl who pinned for you said it. She must have seen the hurt in his eyes, because her hair turned orange at once and her hands flew to his mouth 'Oh, Remus, I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Oh, sweet Merlin, I'm sorry'

'Dora, you're right. I have nowhere to go'

'So stay' she replied. He looked a second at her, and then took a small sip of his glass, closing his eyes and staring at the now empty glass. She inhaled sharply. 'So you're not leaving?' she asked in a small voice, and her tone was so vulnerable, so not like the usual strong Tonks, that he didn't have the heart to say no.

'No, I'm not leaving' the smile that lit her face made him forget that he wasn't supposed to be there, that he didn't deserve her, and for a glorious, that Sirius was dead. He took off his coat, which he still had on, and folded it neatly on the arm of the couch before he had second thoughts about his decision of staying.

When he turned around he found Tonks tightly wrapped in a blanket, looking expectantly at him. He raised an eyebrow at her when she handed him another one.

'So, Remus, tell me about the Marauders' his eyes went the size of plates.

'How… How do you know about them?'

'I'm not an Auror for nothing, you know' she replied smiling. He sighed and leaned on the back of the couch.

'Why do you want me to tell you about them?'

'Because I'm sure it's a wonderful story, and Sirius was my family, and you're the man that I…' she trailed off, hair orange again.

'That you what?' he asked, though he doubted he wanted to hear the answer. His self-restrain wasn't strong enough for that.

'Doesn't mind. Will you tell me about them?' she asked, eyes glittering with hope. He pondered his opinions for a moment. There were a lot of things that she didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her.

'What do you want to know?' he gave in.

'All' came her simple reply, and he took a long breath before starting to talk.

And he talked the night away, sitting on her couch while she listened, eyes wide with excitement, nursing a glass of orange wine, and then they watched the sunrise together.

When he left shortly after that, leaving her asleep on the couch and kissing her forehead before leaving, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he allowed himself a little smile when the warm light of the morning sun tickled his skin.

* * *

Did you like it?

Next chapter will be Lavender/Seamus, cause they're just too cute

Review!


	4. SeamusLavender

This chapter is Lavender/Seamus, and it's settled after the Hogwarts Battle. Since it's been so long since I updated, I'd made it extra long for you!

Hope you liked, and don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

_Chapter 4_

_**Dessert:**__ sweet wine, normally served with dessert. They are often best appreciated alone, or with fruit or bakery sweets. The wine must be sweeter than the food it is served with. Ripe peach is the ideal partner for many dessert wines. Not to be drunk with chocolate or toffee._

When you're eleven, you sit with her on the boat through the Black Lake, and listen all the way to her incessant babbling, and you can't help but notice the blush that covers her cheeks when she is chosen into Gryffindor.

When you're twelve, you let her copy your Transfiguration homework, because you know she can't concentrate with all the Heir of Slytherin paranoia going on, and even if your answers are nearly all wrong, she thanks you, and you somehow feel extremely pleased with yourself.

When you're thirteen, you start to notice how shiny her hair is, and how that pretty pink blush is always on her cheeks, but you shake your head and concentrate again on your crystal ball, but it doesn't bring you anything but a headache.

When you're fourteen, you flush when she hugs for saving her from the Blast Ended Skrewts, and you ask her to the Yule Ball, pursuing you don't know what stupid dream, and so when she stands on her peep toes and pecks your lips at the end of the night, you are too stunned to respond in any way, and she doesn't try to kiss you again.

When you're fifteen, she tries to make you see reason about Harry Potter, but you refuse flat out until you realise it's really not about Harry, it's about Ron. That lovely blush she has, it reaches dangerous levels when she is near him, and so you join the DA, not out of respect for Harry (even if you believe him), but still pursuing that stupid dream that you're too scared to call another way.

When you're sixteen, even with your fierce resistance, the stupid dream materialises into a crush, but you don't understand why they call it crush until she kisses Ron. That's when you understand: crushes are meant to be crushed.

When you're seventeen, you become her shield, and you protect her from everything and everyone, never asking something in return. You've never been one to break rules, but for her, for her you break them all, and when after the Battle ends you hear she's been injured, you break into the Hospital wing, but she's already been transferred somewhere else.

When you're eighteen, you, along with everyone else, recompose the broken wizarding world, but among the wreckage you don't find her, it doesn't matter how hard you try or how much you miss her, she doesn't come back.

When you're nineteen, you get a job at the Wizarding Sports Department in the Ministry, but you still refuse to take lunch with Ron and Harry. It still stings, even if you haven't heard from her in two years, and for all you know, she could be dead, but you try not to think of that too much.

When you're twenty, you figure she had moved abroad or has died, since she seems to have been whipped off the base of the earth, so you stop thinking about her – or pretend to- and sit at lunch with Harry and Ron.

When you're twenty one, almost four years after the war, you're walking down Diagon Alley when you see her. You make a double take so sudden your neck makes a painful crack and you knock over a witch passing by, but you barely notice it. When you get up and backtrack, you see her inside of the bakery that is where before was Florean Fortescue's, a basket on one arm, and a bow on her hair. You stand there, gaping, for what seems years, but are in fact just a couple of minutes, until she pays and gets out of the shop, closing her eyes momentarily under the bright midday sun. Is there that you notice that even if she looks different – the scars on her face are proof of that – the same pinkish blush still adorns her cheeks, and you can't help it when a huge smile slides into your face.

'Lavender!' she turns around sharply and her mouth forms a perfect surprised O when she sees you.

'What…? Seamus! I can't believe it!' she cries, flinging her arms around you and hugging you, and you hug her back, feeling so good you have to pinch yourself to make sure it's not a dream. After all these years, after all the searching, you go and find her out of coincidence. Just your luck…

When she pulls apart, you ask her the question you have been wishing to ask her for four years.

'Where have you been? I couldn't find you!'

She smiles a little and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Well, I've been living on the coast, near Bill and Fleur Weasley's house. You know, Ron's brother?' you nod, and she continues. 'I've had… a rough time, but I'm okay now, and I'm so sorry to hadn't kept in touch, but I haven't kept in touch with anybody, not even Parvati'

Her face falls a little, and her eyes unfocus for a second, as if remembering something unpleasant. But it's only a second, and you've had too many of those to ask why, and so you wait until she talks again, still not fully believing it. God, it seems like your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

'So, tell me what's been going on with your life!' she asks excitedly, and you run a hand through your hair, a sheepish smile in your face. You debate a second in your head if you should tell her you've spent most of the four past years looking for her, but decide against it.

'Umm, I've been helping out a little, you know? With the war after effects and all…And three years ago they offered me a job in the Ministry, in the Magical Sports department, so I'm good, I'm pretty good. And you?' you give her a resumed version of what has happened, skipping over many points, and you have the slightly oppressive feeling in your chest that she won't buy that your life has been wine and roses these years.

'Oh, not much, but, hey, I have an idea. Why don't you come over to lunch? Tommy would be delighted'

The blood literally freezes in your veins when you hear the word Tommy. Who is Tommy? And why do they live together? You feel your breakfast making its way up your throat, and you swallow forcefully, trying to plaster a fake smile on your face, all the giddiness and the happiness that has taken over you when you saw her disappearing.

'I don't know, Lavender, I don't want to bother…'

She shakes her head, her hair bouncing slightly.

'Non sense! You are coming to lunch!' she beams at you, and you smile back, unable to control yourself. It's so good to be around again the old good Lavender: the bubbly one, who didn't take no for an answer and wore a bow on her hair. So even if you feel like you'd left your insides in the middle of Diagon Alley, you follow her to the nearest apparition point, and you grab her shoulder when you dissaparate, the world twisting and contorting in front of your eyes.

When your feet touch solid ground again, a heavy smell of sea hits your nostrils, and you open your eyes to find yourself in a white sanded beach, staring at the dark ocean. You look around, your hand still on Lavender's shoulder, and see a small house on your left, just in the fine line where the grass ends and the sand begins. It's small, with greyish tiles and white walls with green shutters. Several beds of flowers surround the house, and you look down at Lavender, mouth hanging open.

'Is this your house?'

'Of course it is. Do you like it?' she asks, and you nod, finally releasing her shoulder. You are in Tommy territory after all, you think with bitterness.

Lavender leads you to the door, and opens it with a key she summons from her basket. When she opens the door she shouts.

'Tommy! I'm home!'

You brace yourself for the inevitable scene that's about to unfold, and you try to think that this guy must be good, if Lavender lives with him, but it doesn't bring any comfort. You're sure Tommy hasn't searched her for four years, or has protected her from Death Eaters, or has brought her to the Yule Ball, or…

You've never been good with surprises, so when a huge white dog comes trotting from inside the house, wagging its tail and putting his front paws in Lavender's shoulders, you give a small yelp and jump backwards.

Lavender, however, is too busy patting the dog

'Tommy, you're a good boy, good boy' she coos, and then the dog moves its head and looks at you. Tommy immediately comes up to you and starts licking your hand.

You gaze up at Lavender, astonished.

'Is this Tommy?'

She nods; smiling and blushing that adorable blush of hers, and opens a door on her left, which turns out to lead to the kitchen.

Together, you make lunch, and you talk of trivial things, and even if there are very few signs, you notice that she carefully avoids talking about what she has done over the last four years, subtly changing topics and redirecting the conversation like only her knows how to.

It's not until you two have finished eating, and she has opened the pastries she has bought in the bakery you found her in, and opened a sweet wine – which you honestly don't like, but take it nonetheless – that you ask her again about why she has been so difficult to find, and she drops the whole act at once. She sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, absentmindedly stroking Tommy's head.

'During the Battle I was attacked by Greyback. He pushed me from a balcony, and on top of that he tried to bite me.' She shudders slightly 'Hermione Granger saved me. How ironic is that?' she asks with a dry laugh, and shakes her head 'The girl I hated for most of sixth year turned out to be the one I owe my life to'

'Lavender…' you reach out and take her hand, and she shots you a weak smile.

'There had been times, these four years, when I didn't think she had done me a favour. I wished she would just had let me die.'

Your heart clenches painfully, because the sadness in her eyes is overwhelming, and it swallows the light in her eyes. She pauses, looking out of the window, and you observe her scars. They are three: one that goes down from her left temple to her chin, one that cuts across from the middle of her forehead to the lower right corner of her face and another one that starts on her left ear and disappears through the collar of her shirt. The scars are a faint pink, and they are in relief, as if the skin had healed over a thick wire.

You look at them, really look at them, and can't help but think that they are the same colour she was so addicted too when in Hogwarts. They blend in with her dark blonde hair and her brown eyes, and you find out you barely notice them at all.

'You are beautiful' you blurt out without thinking, and she turns her head to look at you, her eyes wide. Your eyes go wide too, and you feel the strange urge to bang your head against the table.

'What?' she asks, almost a whisper, and you have the distinctive feeling that you can't act as though you haven't said anything.

'Err…' damn! When is your Gryffindor courage when you need it? The Sorting Hat should have just put you in Hufflepuff, as it intended to do before you begged him for Gryffindor.

And suddenly you remember why you begged the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor. Because that pretty girl called Lavender that had gone with you on the boats was smiling up at you from the Gryffindor table, and she was the only person you've talked to that hadn't made fun of your Irish accent.

'You are beautiful' you repeat, and smile at her. She looks at you for a second, and then takes her glass of wine and throws it at your face. Blinking through the sweet-smelling liquid, you gape at her.

'What…'

'Don't you dare make fun of me!' she says, and her face is blotchy, her scars an angry dark pink. 'Get out. Get out!' she shouts, and grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you up on your feet.

'Wait! What…? Lavender!' you choke, trying to breath, because she has begun to drag you to the door clutching your collar, and your wind-pipe is dangerously close to breaking. She wrenches the door open and pushes you out of the door, almost beginning to close it again, but you manage to block the door with one foot. You hold the door and push it open again, and she stares up at you, her scars now nearly red.

'Go away!' she says, but you stand your ground, utterly bewildered as to why she has suddenly gone ballistic on you, but determined not to go. You're not going to let her go again, not after finding her again after four years. Not after pining for her for seven years, thank you very much.

'Lavender… What have I said wrong?' you ask.

'Seamus in not beautiful! I'm not, and you're just saying it because you don't want me to see me sad, but guess what, I'm not sad! I'm angry! I'm angry because I'd never be beautiful again! Because when I had finally mustered the strength to get out this house and back to the real world, I go and find you! And you ruin it all by saying I'm beautiful, and I'm not!'

She has shouted all this, and while she shouted, Tommy has come out from behind her and tried to snap at you. What a lovely dog.

When she finishes, you stare back at her, a shocked expression on your face, trying to find a way to placate her. You might not have seen her for four years, but you still know that an angry Lavender is something you should fear.

'Look, Lavender' you start, slightly overwhelmed by the sweet scent that clings to your face and your shirt 'I'm not good at speeches and shit like that, but I don't say things I don't mean.' She looks at you suspiciously, and you take a tentatively step forwards. She doesn't move, but she doesn't seem convinced at all, so you decide to throw caution to the winds. What the hell, you have wasted enough time. 'And if I say you're beautiful, it's because you are. I've searched for you all these years, thinking you were dead or something like that, so I'm not about to blow it up saying something that I don't mean.'

You smile at her, wishing she hasn't got any other wine glass near, because the one she threw you it's beginning to dry and you feel sticky all around.

She looks at you, her scars still contrasting with her flushed skin, but oddly fitting with her magenta bow, and then slowly, very slowly, walks up to where you stand, and takes out her wand, pointing it at your face.

'Lavender…' you stutter, trying to back away 'Think about you're about to do' you try to reason with her, but you know the efforts are futile, you've witnessed the effects of her wrath.

'I don't need to think for what I'm about to do' she whispers, and then says 'Scourgify!' and you feel the sticky wine disappearing from your face and your shirt. 'Much better' she says with a smirk, and you let out a breath of relief, and look down at her. She still hasn't stepped away.

'Merlin Lavender, you scared the wits out of me, you can't-'

The rest of your sentence is muffled by her lips, which have suddenly crashed against you, and her arms have wound up around your neck, and though it suddenly occurs to you that she has an habit of repeating herself in first kisses, you don't mind, because you know there will be more, many more to come.

And putting your arms around her, you close the door with a kick.

* * *

Did you liked it? Please review and let me know what you think!


	5. DracoAstoria

Sorry for not updating in so long! I swear it won't happen again!

This chapter is Draco/Astoria, the first fic I do of this pairing, so please, be nice.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

_Chapter 5_

_**Ice:**__ type of dessert wine produced from grapes frozen while still on the vine. Very sweet wine, high acidity. Very expensive._

Love was never really an option for you. You knew what it was supposed to be, of course, but you never really felt it.

What you felt for your parents was a strong affection, but you would think twice, or thrice, before sacrificing yourself for them. You know they wouldn't do it for you, no matter how much they said you were very important to them. You weren't the _most _important thing for them.

As for your sister, well, what you felt for her was jealousy most of the time, and the rest was divided between a sense of duty and indifference. Even if there were only two years between you, it felt like a hundred years. You never liked the same things, or interacted much more than a hug now and then, and you couldn't push yourself to care if she was crying or laughing. And you knew she felt the same about you.

You knew a lot of things, actually, but the one thing you were most curious about, love, you didn't know what it felt like. And you were sure that you would never know.

Long before you even learned how to speak, your mother and his mother already passed whole evenings talking about your wedding, and how wonderful you would look in the white dress your mother wore when she got married, and just how fine the tiara, Malfoy family heirloom, would look on your black curls.

Of course, when you were old enough to understand what the looks they gave Draco and you wherever you talked meant, you were horrified and completely mortified, because, come on, how could Draco Malfoy, who was always following Daphne like the hopeless moron he was, ever laid his eyes on you?

Another thing you never quite understood was why your mother didn't set Daphne up with him, if they were very much in 'love'. It was a pity, really, that Daphne had already been set up with the _fine_ Blaise Zabini.

After the mortifying piece of information was out in the open, well, you and Draco, ehh, fell apart, and never really talked when you were in Hogwarts. Not that you had ever been very close, but now it was like you didn't even exist for each other. Not even as Daphne's little sister and Daphne's boyfriend, or whatever.

It wasn't until after the war, after Voldemort was defeated, and after he was cleared of all charges that you talked with him again. You had lived in Hogwarts in the Black Year, as they called it now, and had seen firsthand all the horror of the Carrows. You had appeared before the jury that judged all the Death Eaters and people involved with the Dark side as a witness, but you also attended all his trials, because it seemed like your duty to be there for him, even if he probably didn't remember you.

It was also a sense of duty to your sister, who wouldn't be able to attend anything anymore, and who had always had a soft spot for Draco, even when they weren't chasing after each other and she was with Zabini and he was with Pansy.

When he was declared innocent, and free to go, you couldn't help but get up and clap. After hearing all the testimonies, all the stories, and all the terrible things he had witnessed, you didn't have any doubt that he was innocent. He might have appeared evil from the outside, but he wasn't. You couldn't explain why you were so sure, you just knew.

Maybe it had something to do with the faint memories you had of when you still wore pigtails and both of you played hide and seek between the tall hedges of Malfoy Manor, Daphne supervising, even though she was the same age as Draco.

You were the only one clapping in the whole room, and he looked around, looking surprised, and spotted you in the far side of the room.

He was pale and slim after so many months of suffering, but his smile still looked the same as ever. His smile, yes, his true smile, not the sneer he reserved for his enemies.

You waited for him at the entrance of the court room, and when he arrived to where you were, he offered you his arm, and even though it should have been awkward, after all those years and knowing the plans your mothers had for you, it wasn't.

He spent the first afternoon of his freedom with you, in a fancy restaurant in Diagon Alley he liked, and you shared the most expensive wine you've ever seen, a fine ice wine, which you found delicious, and even though it was expensive even for you, you decided to try again someday.

And he might have seemed cold and uncaring, but you knew it was just a façade, because you wore the same one.

And with the same care you had put in building yours, you both began to knock each other's façades down.

It was a slow process, one that took many afternoons, strolls down Diagon Alley, unexpected visits and a million of small details and words, but one morning you woke up to find that the thing that made your day was seeing him, and that the most wonderful sound you'd ever heard was his voice.

And maybe because you were made of the same material, because both of you forged yourselves during those long afternoons in Malfoy manor, you knew when he was going to say it, those three words that hadn't meant anything for you your whole life, and so you went and scrounged all the money you could and bought that expensive wine, that ice wine you had drank during your first lunch together, and when he opened his mouth to say it, you said it too.

I love you.

Those three words, the only piece of knowledge you never had had, the only one you had ever wanted.

And you finally knew what it meant, which was, curiously, also three words.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

That night, you toasted with two bottles of ice wine. Yes, he had also bought one bottle, because according to him, it was the wine you had drank during your first lunch together.

* * *

This one took me a long time to complete, and I know it's kinda short, but I just didn't think there was nothing more to add. Hope you liked the end, not much to do with the wine though… don't forget to review!


End file.
